


You and I go hard at each other like we're going to war

by theglitterati



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Courfeyrac have sex, finally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and I go hard at each other like we're going to war

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "One More Night" by Maroon 5.

Enjolras wakes to the sound of a car horn blasting.

“What?! What’s going on?!” he yells, trying to right himself in the passenger seat, his head whipping around wildly to try and find what Courfeyrac is honking at.

Courfeyrac is laughing beside him, though, so clearly they aren’t in any danger. They aren’t even on the highway anymore; in fact, they’re pulling onto Courfeyrac’s street.

“Had to wake you up somehow,” Courfeyrac says, smirking. “Didn’t want to take my attention away from the road for too long.”

“You probably could have just said something,” Enjolras grumbles, not pleased about the rude awakening. He rubs his eyes to wake himself up. “What time is it?”

“It’s 7:45,” Courfeyrac answers. “I have just enough time to shower before the debate comes on.”

There’s a presidential election in full swing, and Enjolras and Courfeyrac have a tradition of watching every debate from both parties together that they had started during the last election. Combeferre used to watch with them, but he eventually decided that he would rather watch the debates later on his own, when he could actually hear what the candidates were saying instead of just Courfeyrac and Enjolras yelling at the TV. Enjolras had accompanied Courfeyrac home to watch the debate tonight at 8, Marius having gone to Cosette’s house instead of coming back with them.

“I have to shower, too,” Enjolras says immediately. “I keep seeing pieces of sand fall out of my hair.”

They had spent the day at the beach with their friends. Enjolras wasn’t that interested in fun in the sun, and had spent his time reading in the sand with Combeferre and Joly. Courfeyrac, on the other hand, had ignored the fact that the water was freezing in September and had jumped right in with Bossuet and Bahorel.

“You’re going to have to be fast then, because I’m not missing the beginning because of you,” Courfeyrac says as he turns off in the car in the parking garage. It’s 7:48 now; it’s going to be a close call.

By the time they get into the apartment, it’s 7:50.

“You have five minutes exactly,” Courfeyrac warns Enjolras as he heads for the washroom. “I’ll get everything ready out here.”

Enjolras gets into the shower and rubs shampoo into his hair, his bathing suit and t-shirt left behind on the bathroom floor.

He’s about to wash the shampoo out when he hears the bathroom door open.

“There’s no way it’s been five minutes yet—” Enjolras is saying when he sees something come flying into the shower from over the curtain rod. It turns out to be his bathing suit.

“Put that on,” Courfeyrac calls to him. “I’m coming in.”

“What?!” Enjolras shrieks. He’d try and argue, but knowing Courfeyrac, it’s in his best interest to focus his attention on getting the bathing suit on rather than trying to make a case for Courfeyrac not to jump in the shower with him. Courfeyrac doesn’t listen very well.

He’s expecting Courfeyrac to come through the side of the curtain that he’s facing, the one opposite the showerhead, but he climbs in right behind Enjolras instead, making Enjolras jump out of the stream of water. Thankfully, he too is wearing his bathing suit.

Courfeyrac grabs the shampoo and squirts some right onto the top of his head, smiling smugly at Enjolras. Enjolras just glares at Courfeyrac with an expression that suggests Courfeyrac had better start explaining himself quickly.

“You were taking way too long,” Courfeyrac says, clearly not sorry at all for interrupting Enjolras.

“I can’t have been in here for more than two minutes. I still have shampoo in my hair,” Enjolras says irritably, pointing up to his curls.

“Well, it can stay there for a minute more,” Courfeyrac says, tipping his head back to rinse his own hair, then reaching for the conditioner.

Enjolras, having nowhere else to look, finds himself watching Courfeyrac as he washes his hair.

 _Courfeyrac_ , Enjolras thinks, _has a very nice body._ It’s not that he’s trying to notice this, of course, but given the situation, there’s no avoiding it. Enjolras wraps his arms around himself protectively.

It’s been a while since he’s seen Courfeyrac up close with this little clothing on. As they got older and graduated from college, games like strip poker and truth or dare happened less and less frequently, hugely reducing the opportunities Enjolras has had to see his friends in various states of undress. Even today at the beach, when Courfeyrac was dressed exactly as he is now, Enjolras had been far up the sand, away from the water.

What he’s missed, over the years, is that Courfeyrac has filled out. Where Enjolras can remember him being skinny and lean before, he now sees toned arms and tight muscles that stretch across Courfeyrac’s stomach as he moves. Enjolras isn’t sure what brought on the change – he thinks he vaguely remembers Courfeyrac mentioning Pilates once – but he is positive that he likes what he sees. He even thinks Courfeyrac might have grown an inch or two over the years, though that may just be his imagination.

Enjolras can’t help but wonder what it would be like to reach out and touch—

“Stare much?” Courfeyrac says with a smirk, bringing Enjolras out of his daydream. His hair seems clean now, all of the conditioner rinsed out of it.

“I’m staring at the water because I’m fucking freezing,” Enjolras says, never lost for words. It’s half-true anyway; he is getting cold standing out of the water.

“You can have it back,” Courfeyrac says, grabbing Enjolras by the hips – that shouldn’t feel good – and spinning them around, changing their positions. As Enjolras tips his head back to let the water fall on his hair, he notices that Courfeyrac hasn’t moved nearly as far back as Enjolras had been standing. In fact, he’s still within the spray of the showerhead.

“Aren’t you getting out?” Enjolras asks as he washes away the last of the shampoo. He doesn’t use conditioner on his hair – it flattens it out – so he’s finished. “You were so concerned that I was wasting your time.”

“I can wait,” Courfeyrac says simply. He shifts infinitesimally closer, looking down at the ground instead of at Enjolras, and the change in the atmosphere is palpable.

“Do you want something?” Enjolras asks, his voice coming out harsh, and, thankfully, not wavering.

Courfeyrac raises his head then, making a point to look Enjolras right in the eyes as he says, “Yes.”

Enjolras balks a little under Courfeyrac’s stare. “Then take it,” he says breathlessly, and before he’s even finished saying it, Courfeyrac’s mouth is on his.

Courfeyrac is an _incredible_ kisser. He’s barely touching Enjolras with his hands, which come to rest on Enjolras’s shoulders, but he doesn’t need to. His mouth does it all for him. Every sweep of his tongue against Enjolras’s, every bite on Enjolras’s bottom lip, it’s all deliberate and carefully executed to make Enjolras’s knees weak. By the time they pull apart, Enjolras’s head is spinning.

Courfeyrac is breathing heavily when they part. “Do you remember—”

“Yes,” Enjolras interrupts him.

Courfeyrac smiles. “So you still think about it, too?”

Enjolras takes a deep breath. “Yes.” Enjolras doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to.

It was two years ago. The amis had all gone up to Cosette’s cottage for the weekend; and while she calls it a cottage, it would be more accurately described as a mansion that just happens to be near a lake.

After swimming, hiking, and a _lot_ of drinking, everyone had dispersed into separate areas of the house to engage in various kinds of debaucherous activity. Enjolras, somehow, had ended up pinned against a wall in an empty hallway, making out with Courfeyrac. It had been messy and hurried, the two of them expecting to be caught at any moment. It had ended when Courfeyrac had reached down and grabbed Enjolras’s ass, Enjolras making the decision that they probably shouldn’t proceed any further while they were that drunk.

Now, Courfeyrac is echoing the movement, sliding a hand over the back of Enjolras’s bathing suit.

“Are you going to run away this time?” Courfeyrac asks.

Enjolras steps closer, closing the distance between them. “Do I look like I’m running?” he answers, tilting his head to the side.

Courfeyrac takes that as an invitation to shove Enjolras against the tile wall, and to start sucking bruises into his neck and shoulder. Enjolras tries to keep his cool, but he can’t help but let out a loud moan when Courfeyrac moves his mouth down to one of Enjolras’s nipples.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Courfeyrac says against Enjolras’s collarbone.

“Took you long enough to make your way around the group to me,” Enjolras counters. “What am I, sixth, seventh in line?”

“Fourth, thank you very much,” Courfeyrac answers, smashing their hips together. “And don’t act like you’re so innocent; everyone knows what you and Feuilly did after that protest got broken up last year.”

Enjolras did _not_ know that everyone knew about that, but with Courfeyrac’s teeth on his ear, he can’t find it in him to care.

“Besides,” Courfeyrac says. “I like that you’ve been unattainable until now. It’s going to make it even more satisfying when I make you scream.”

With that, Courfeyrac drops to his knees, finally pulling Enjolras’s bathing suit off. To say that Enjolras is hard would be an understatement. Courfeyrac looks up at Enjolras, winks – honest to god, _winks_ – and then swallows his cock down in one go.

Enjolras uses one hand to steady himself against the wall, while the other flies up to cover his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, _fuck!_ ” Enjolras cries through his fingers, unable to stop himself. “Goddamnit, Courfeyrac, that’s fucking incredible.” Enjolras has no idea how Courfeyrac learned to do this, and he can’t even think about it, not when Courf’s nose is pressed against his pelvic bone and Enjolras can feel Courfeyrac’s throat opening to admit him.

When Enjolras finally sorts himself out enough to look down, Courfeyrac is looking up at him, mouth full, the most ridiculously self-satisfied look on his face Enjolras has ever seen.

Enjolras is starting to feel like he’s losing control of this situation, like Courfeyrac has pulled one over on him. And Enjolras never likes to feel out of control. He makes his move.

“This is what I thought about, you know,” Enjolras says, amazed he’s even able to talk while Courfeyrac continues blowing him. He shuts his eyes and continues. “After we kissed the first time. I had to stop it, but I still went back to my room and touched myself thinking about what could have happened. I thought about this, about you blowing me, sucking me like this – _oh, fuck_ – when I got myself off.”

When he opens his eyes, the arrogant look has been completely wiped off Courfeyrac’s face. Instead, he’s slack-jawed and staring.

“Oh my _god_ ,” he moans, Enjolras’s dick still down his throat. He pulls off. “That’s so hot.”

Enjolras runs his fingers through Courfeyrac’s curls, pleased.

“Let’s get out here and go to your bed,” Enjolras suggests, and Courfeyrac nods enthusiastically.

They dry off in record time, Courfeyrac finally shedding his bathing suit and letting Enjolras get a look at his gorgeous cock, and race to the bedroom. Enjolras takes the lead this time, pushing Courfeyrac back onto the mattress and climbing up on top of him.

Enjolras might not be able to deep throat like an amateur porn star like Courfeyrac, but he does know what Courfeyrac likes: a show.

He settles between Courfeyrac’s legs and starts putting his tongue all over him, his thighs, his stomach, his balls – everywhere but where Courfeyrac wants it to be. He keeps eye contact with Courfeyrac the entire time, watching how he’s making him fall apart.

“I knew you would be like this,” Courfeyrac says. “Such a fucking tease.”

“If it bothers you,” Enjolras says coyly, sucking on Courfeyrac’s hipbone, “I can go even slower.”

Courfeyrac laughs at the joke, though his laugh is shakier and raspier than normal. “It doesn’t bother me at all,” he says. “Our conscionable, fearless leader acting all depraved like this, just for me? I could watch this all day.”

Enjolras sucks one of his own fingers into his mouth then, continuing the show, and then slides it against Courfeyrac’s entrance. Courfeyrac sucks in his breath sharply, and Enjolras chooses that moment to finally take his cock into his mouth.

Courfeyrac moans unintelligibly, and Enjolras knows that if he has managed to make _Courfeyrac_ speechless, he’s doing a good job. Enjolras doesn’t let up, working the part of Courfeyrac’s length that he can’t fit into his mouth with his hand. Courfeyrac starts bucking his hips up, and Enjolras might have been happy to let Courfeyrac fuck his mouth, but there’s something else he wants more.

He crawls up over Courfeyrac’s body, making sure to keep them pressed together in every way possible, and whispers, “Wanna fuck me, Courf?” in his ear.

Courfeyrac looks like Enjolras has just asked him if he wanted a winning lottery ticket. He loses his composure completely as he frantically opens the drawer beside the bed, pulling out lube and a condom and putting them on the bed.

He moves out from beneath Enjolras and sits beside him. “Flip over,” he says, and Enjolras does, resting on his knees with his ass in the air. Courfeyrac grabs for the lube, but Enjolras is faster.

“That’s okay,” Enjolras purrs. “I can do it myself.”

The look on Courfeyrac’s face when Enjolras slides two fingers into himself from behind is absolutely priceless. Courfeyrac slips a condom onto himself, absently-minded stroking his cock as he watches Enjolras open himself up for him.

Enjolras would love to keep teasing just to keep Courfeyrac’s face like that, but he can’t wait any longer. “I’m ready,” he says, and Courfeyrac is behind him in seconds.

Enjolras emits a moan that is almost musical when Courfeyrac pounds into him, Courfeyrac letting loose a string of curse words in three different languages behind him. Courfeyrac wastes no time with posturing, finding Enjolras’s prostate and then slamming against it time after time. He slides one hand through Enjolras’s still-damp hair, pulling tentatively at first, and then harder when he hears Enjolras whine pleasurably in response. He uses the other to pump Enjolras’s cock.

Enjolras has a lot more filthy things that he would like to tell Courfeyrac, like that his use of their first kiss as masturbation material lasted far longer than just one night, or that he’s making Enjolras see stars behind his eyes the way he’s fucking him right now. But Enjolras is far beyond words.

Then Courfeyrac slams into him particularly deep, and Enjolras is gone, coming hard over Courfeyrac’s still working hand – and Courfeyrac was right, he did end up making him scream. Courfeyrac lets out a gasp from behind him and follows him over, his nails digging into Enjolras’s scalp as he thrusts through his orgasm.

They collapse on the bed, not even bothering to clean up, Courfeyrac tossing the condom somewhere in the direction of the garbage can. They stay close together, touching each others’ faces gently and stealing the occasional kiss. Neither of them seems to want to break the spell they’ve put themselves under.

“I think we missed the debate,” Courfeyrac says finally.

“What debate?” Enjolras jokes. He truly had forgotten all about it.

“Guess I was pretty mind-blowing, then?” Courfeyrac says with a cocky smile.

“I guess,” Enjolras says, trying to sound indifferent. But he can’t contain his happiness. “Yes, actually, you were,” he admits, moving in for another kiss.

Courfeyrac giggles. “That was… that was perfect. You were perfect.”

Enjolras smiles, and pulls him closer. “We are _so_ doing that again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta [Carol](http://ronnlynch.tumblr.com), for helping me develop this and for writing background information for me on who else in the group Courfeyrac and Enjolras had had sex with before. The Enjolras/Feuilly drabble she sent me made me have to stare out the window and contemplate my life choices for a good ten minutes. [UPDATE: I convinced her to write it as a fic, so now it exists [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5286290).]
> 
> [UPDATE]: I wrote a sequel to this. It's too short to put here on AO3, but it's [here on Tumblr](http://kyrstin.tumblr.com/post/139213584616/courfjolras-me-and-you-were-simply-not-cut) for you to read.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You walk like you're a God, can't believe I made you weak](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5286290) by [ronnlynch (ohlmes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohlmes/pseuds/ronnlynch)




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